Solitary Escape From Furnace Quotes

The human mind is a powerful thing in many ways, but in others it's endlessly fragile—it takes only a single moment of pure terror to tear a hole in it, like a finger through a cobweb, leaving you forever just a shadow, a half-person.

Like I've said before, so many times before, I'm not a good person, I'm not a hero. I'm a criminal, a liar, a cheat, a killer. It was them or me and I wanted to live.

Better to be a spirit with the earth beneath you than a corpse pinned tight by the weight of the world.

Let's make like a hockey player and get the puck out of here.

When you're scared - and I mean really scared, not just hearing a noise in the night, or standing toe to toe with someone twice your size who wants to pound you into the earth - it feels as if you're being injected with darkness. It's like black water as cold as ice settling in your body where your blood and marrow used to be, pushing every other feeling out as it fills you from your feet to your scalp. It leaves you with nothing.

But nobody can run from their own demons.

Something in my gut twisted so hard that it felt like I was being tickled by an invisible hand, and it took me a moment to realize what it was. Hope. It had been so long since I'd felt it that the sensation was like something living inside me, something wonderful waiting to break free, just like I was.

I wondered how many voices there were living in my head, and how they could all have such different opinions.

All it needed was me, and my fear. Because alone in the silence, in the unfathomable darkness, I knew that my own thoughts would drive me mad. My own mind would kill me.

I pushed until I felt his [Donovan's] body grow still, the tendons in his neck relaxing. I pushed until I felt the mouth beneath the pillow droop, one last dull groan fading into silence. And I kept pushing, because I couldn't bear to pull the pillow away to see what I'd done. "You're free," I said. I closed my eyes, saw Donovan as he had been. One last smile, then he faded.

Don't give in, Alex, don't let them win. You beat them once and you can do it again. Don't let this place break you. Keep your mind busy, keep yourself occupied, find things to do. If you're doing things, then you still exist, right?

There was only Furnace. It was our world, our grave, our hell.

I could accept my life ending, because there would be no more fear and no more pain. But what if death wasn´t the end? What if some part of me, my soul perhaps, lived on?

Keep your mind busy, keep yourself occupied, find things to do. If you're doing things, then you still exist, right?

And when reality goes, sanity has no reason.

Yeah, because you'll really be showing them, won't you. Talk about cutting up your wrists to spite your fate.

When every link to the outside world is severed, time has no meaning. It ceases to exist other than as a dull memory, a vague recollection of what a minute used to be, an hour, a day. Sealed up tight so far beneath the ground, every single second was stretched out almost to infinity—each one a vast and empty abyss where time used to reign, an ageless aeon barren of significance and consequence. When every scrap of light and sound has been taken away, reality has no meaning. It too ceases to exist, for what is reality other than the cumulation of senses—images witnessed by our own eyes and the noises that enter through our ears? But when all those senses are starved, then the real world fades away like the last frantic gasp of a television program when the set is switched off. And when reality goes, sanity has no reason. How can your ability to behave in a normal and rational way still exist when nothing normal or rational remains? As soon as reality breaks, as soon as we are separated from the physical world, the cracks begin to appear in our minds. And through them seeps the madness that has always been there, flowing into your skull like a liquid nightmare.

With every movement the claustrophobia threatened to consume me, and several times I had to stop as the fear rang bells in my brain, making my entire body convulse.

Enfraquecida à beira da loucura por tudo que havia acontecido, minha mente tentava agora me convencer de que eu já estava morto; que aquele era meu inferno pessoal.

Mantenha a mente ocupada, encontre coisas para fazer. Se estiver fazendo algo, é porque ainda existe, certo?

É estranho como coisas complicadas podem acontecer quando você está à beira da loucura.

Talvez tentássemos rir o máximo que podíamos antes de encontrar o triste final. Porque nunca se sabe qual riso será o último.